Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak;
Lay open to my earthy-gross conceit,
Smother'd in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,
The folded meaning of your words' deceit.

I cannot, nor I will not, hold me still;
My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will.

Against my soul's pure truth why labour you
To make it wander in an unknown field?
Are you a god? would you create me new?

Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine,
Whose weakness, married to thy stronger state,
Makes me with thy strength to communicate.

We came into the world like brother and brother;
And now let's go hand in hand, not one before another.